After the Rains

And here I sit inside the door and stare
into the driving rain. The dense, wet leaves
are grey against the clouds, the sky is grey,

there are grey puddles on the sodden path,
and always rain. It's only some few yards
to where the trees begin, the endless trees,

a little thin at first, but once you're in
they're suffocating. Sudden creepers, ferns,
nauseating smell of fungi, rotting wood

and lack of daylight take your breath away.
Yet, if I stay the rain will wear its way
in runnels down my skin. It will take weeks

of hacking, aching lungs and burning eyes,
but chances are that then, one day, I'll find
the ocean waiting there, and cloudless skies.